


Empty With You

by korynn



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Breathplay, Knifeplay, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-06-15
Updated: 2012-06-15
Packaged: 2017-11-07 19:25:49
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 839
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/434535
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/korynn/pseuds/korynn
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Dean's not really sure how it got to this, but he's not really in any position to complain.</p>
<p>Sam's tied down to a chair and whimpering in a way that's definitely not pain.<br/>And the baddies are dead.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Empty With You

Dean's not really sure how it got to this, but he's not really in any position to complain.

Sam's tied down to a chair and whimpering in a way that's definitely not pain.  
And the baddies are dead.

So it's really hard to ignore the urge to just crawl on his younger brother's lap and lick the blood from his split lip and enjoy the way Sam just whines and goes with it.

Sure, they've fought enough things for both of them to know it's not exactly normal, this post-kill lust, but neither one of them are new to each other's _everything_ , so maybe just once they'll ride out the remaining magic instead.

Wiggling enough to get a knife free, he's plucking at the ropes holding Sam down, humming a big before just using it to ruin a mostly-ruined shirt completely, slipping it down and practically purring at the low moan that followed. "Oh, Sammy, you would."

"Dean, please."

"Soon, okay? Lemme get us undressed first before you start begging..."

"No, Dean. Uh.." Pausing, Dean's surprised to see a hint of embarrassment, even in their situation, coloring Sam's face. "Do that. With the knife. Again. But like....on me?"

He tried really hard to keep his smirk at that request to himself, but no, he couldn't. But he gladly went with the request, tracing the dip of Sam's sternum with cool metal and following the sting of not-really cut skin with his mouth, all while wrapping his other hand around Sam's throat.

"I keep forgetting my baby brother's a kinky little fuck." Murmured against Sam's lips, he goes in for a kiss as he squeezes, loving the way Sam's hips jerk up against his and how it makes the whole chair wobble.

The rattled chuckle that runs up Dean's arm doesn't help his case when he grinds their hips together once more, dropping the knife to the floor afterwards to unbutton jeans one handed, semi-distracted by the way Sam practically begs for him to tighten his grip as they kiss; the short gasps as airflow starts to cut off.

Which is totally how Sam is capable to untie himself without him noticing until he's on his stomach with big hands holding him down and yanking jeans down. Any other time he'd be full of brotherly pride, but right now the noises he's making aren't really brotherly. Or even prideful, for that matter. But Sam sure seems to be enjoying it, by the way he's got two fingers slicked up (oh, boy scout Sammy, he'd never complain about his need to carry lube _ever again_ ) and playing at his rim, quick but sure in preparing him, years of practice making things easy for both of them.

"Would've loved to see you ride me-- but I -- need to be in you." Gasped into his shoulderblades as Sam works his way in with shallow thrusts, both of them nearly dripping with sweat as the lust-fever hits it's peak, nearly breaking until Dean's ass is snug against Sam's sharp hips and they're both shuddering as it lets go, too amped up to notice.

Dean scrabbles for the dropped knife now, knowing it's somewhere near one of his knees and pulling it up to push into Sam's hand, no words really needed, the blade joining Sam's mouth in marking up his back.

"Fuck, Sammy...not gonna last, fuckin' magic faded and I can't--"

The knife, poor bastard, gets abandoned again so Sam can get one hand around Dean's cock and another on his throat, pulling them up to kneeling and Dean's gasp silent as Sam somehow goes even deeper, nudging that spot and got his body feels like it's about to fall apart even as Sam squeezes tighter.

"Not yet."

It's not a fetish thing, neither one of them need it or even really ask for it to get off, but it reminds them that they're real, how much power they have over one another.

Twitching at the command, Dean throws an elbow into Sam's side even as he rocks down onto him, thighs quivering and noises turning crackly, vision tunneling, nerves about shot out.

"Come for me."

Never one to ignore a request like that, Dean does exactly that, gasping when Sam immediately lets go, the rush of oxygen triggering a second orgasm right on top of the first, and Dean would've never known Sam was coming too if it wasn't for the come that would leak out of his ass later in the ride to the motel.

Sam might be a really, really fucking good lay, and Dean might consider them for life (not that you'd ever hear him admit it), he'll never not bitch at the possessive streak that turns into ruined clothes, bruises that can't be left alone, and, sometimes, if Sam's lucky, come leaking out of him.

"You're lucky I love you," will always be his final comment, so it's not so bad.

Even if sometimes he wants to strangle his brother. And not in the fun, tingly way.


End file.
